


Snowflake Queen

by Kelpie169



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 09:04:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13050861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelpie169/pseuds/Kelpie169
Summary: She never wanted to be the Snowflake Queen, presiding over the Isle of Man's Annual Broom Race, but thanks to Ron's meddling, Hermione finds herself in that exact position. She doesn't want to wear the stupid dress or escort the winner to the stupid gala. Until she sees who the winner turns out to be.





	Snowflake Queen

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as part of the Hermione's Holiday Hideaway event for the Hermione's Haven Facebook group. All the thanks goes to my awesome beta, the lovely I_was_BOTWP, for cleaning up my incoherence. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Everything recognizable isn't mine. It belongs to JK Rowling or Warner Brothers. I make no money from this. :)

The crowd roared as Hermione waved her hand, the fakest smile she’d ever sported plastered on her overly made up face.

“Ginny!”

The disillusioned redhead nudged her shoulder gently, letting the unfortunate brunette know that she was aware of her presence.

“I’m very sorry about this, but you have enough brothers. I’m going to kill Ronald for getting me into this.” Hermione hissed the words through clenched teeth as Mr. Adams, the announcer presiding over this year’s International Isle of Man Broomstick Trophy Race, rambled on to the assembled masses.

“You can’t kill him, Mione. Even Harry couldn’t get you out of that.”

“Not if we were over International waters!” 

A loud roar of noise brought her attention back to the proceedings at hand as Mr. Adams gestured to her, introducing her as this years ‘Snowflake Queen’, a designation that was apparently much sought after. Except, of course, by her.

“And now-” the pompous little man, gesticulated widely, a huge smarmy grin spread wide across his pink cheeks, “-our contestants will brave the bitter cold for the grand prize! A thousand galleons and the chance to escort the lovely Miss Granger to the post-race gala tonight!”

Hermione’s head whipped around, ignoring the sound of protest as her pin straight hair presumably whipped Ginny in the face. “Excuse me?!?”

x . x . x . x . x

“I was _not_ informed that I would be escorting _anyone_ to any _gala_!”

Mr. Adams huffed as Ginny cancelled her Disillusionment Charm, assuming a sentry position in front of the door to the private box. “Is that really necessary, Miss?”

“It’s Mrs. And yes, it is. My husband, Head Auror Potter, charged me with Miss Granger’s protection since he couldn’t be here himself. You know, since you _paid_ him to fly in the race and all.” Ginny sneered at the rapidly paling man.

Hermione stopped pacing for a moment and glanced at her friend with a raised eyebrow. “They seriously paid him?”

“Yes ma’am. Said it’d be good for publicity. Apparently participation, and therefore viewers, have been declining in recent years.” Ginny chuckled as she adjusted her wand in her wrist holster. “Though when you consider that Marietta Edgecomb was the only applicant for the Snowflake Queen last year AND she submitted herself…”

“Thanks, Gin. Makes me feel loads better about this.”

The redhead shrugged with a large smile on her face as she assumed her guarding position once again.

“Miss Granger, I thought Mr. Weasley would have-”

“Ah, there’s your problem Mr. Adams. You know my feelings on being entered into this...contest. And besides, does Ronald Weasley look like the type of person who would think through any decision in any meaningful fashion?” Hermione gestured down to the starting line where the entrants were gathered.

Most of the entrants were strangers to her, though a few she recognized from her school days, and a few looked familiar though it was hard to tell through the layers they all wore to keep warm. There was an ex-boyfriend or two, Draco Malfoy and George Weasley respectively, and then there were her friends, like Harry and Ron. Well, she wasn’t quite sure if she was counting Ronald as a friend at the moment or not, especially as she watched him stumble drunkenly over the side of his broom and collapse into a knot of other entrants.

Her eyes alighted on one particular figure as Mr. Adams prattled on in the background. He was bundled up, but sveltly, as if he lived somewhere cold and didn’t need as much layering as some of the contestants. And his posture and gait looked familiar…

“Miss Granger! Are you listening?!”

A siren blared loudly as the assembled crowds cheered in the stands beneath the private box. The racers shot off into the ether, their brooms jostling and fighting for better positions as the  men snarled and spit random invectives toward each other.

“No, in fact I wasn’t, sir. I was watching as one of my closest friends and one of the supposed draws for your races crashes drunkenly just off the starting line.”

Sure enough, Ron Weasley had jerked too sharply on his broom and wiped out in a spectacular fashion, skidding to a halt in a bank of snow. Ginny snorted in amusement at her brother while Hermione just sighed in exasperation. His drunken antics had only gotten worse since he’d ill-advisedly entered her into this bloody competition.

Unlike a Muggle motorcycle race, the Broom Race traced the coastline and was almost twice the length. Hermione thanked every god, Muggle and Magical and any in between, that Draco had listened to her when they’d been dating and developed methods for watching sporting events from far away. The holographic type screens they were able to view the race on showed the progress of the racers as they fought through the sea spray and sleet on the 160 km course as their brooms, mostly Firebolts and Firebolt Supremes, sped through the inclement weather.

At this rate they’d be done in under an hour. She’d probably be expected to be the _entertainment_ for the winner in the lead up to the gala as well. She turned her glare toward the pudgy man sitting beside her again, though he took no notice as he watched the screens intently.

“Aren’t you supposed to be announcing, Mr. Adams?” Hermione asked rather acidly as she leaned back into the plush chair set out for her use.

He glanced her way, a rather pompous sneer on his less than handsome face. “Only for the opening ceremony and such things. Not for _this_. There’s another bloke handling that.”

He waved his hand dismissively at the stands outside, as if anything outside their protected little bubble of warmth was beneath his notice and Hermione narrowed her eyes. She spun in her chair and raised an eyebrow at Ginny.

“Lee is the main announcer. There are others stationed at various places around the course to report in. Sort of like how the Muggles do it.” She scuffed her shoe and cast her eyes down to the ground as she mumbled the last bit. “Draco’s idea.”

Hermione’s heart skipped a beat. Of course it had been Draco’s idea. Despite having broken up a few years ago, it still hurt to know that he’d taken so many of her ideas to heart and that he still wanted her back so desperately.

Ah well, there wasn’t anything for it. She’d just have to hope that whoever won wasn’t a complete wanker. And wasn’t Draco.

x . x . x . x . x

“I can’t believe you didn’t wait.”

Hermione glared at Ginny as the redhead strode ahead of her. The silky blue dress dotted with tiny snowflakes fluttered around her legs as her ridiculously high heels clicked along the tile floor of the hotel lobby.

“What purpose would it serve, other than to make my anxiety spike? The only man I’d be alright with would be Harry and I know he didn’t win, purely because he told me that he wasn’t going to try. I don’t want it to be Draco because he’s my ex-boyfriend and he’s still in love with me and it would be bloody awkward. I don’t want it to be George for the same reason, minus the still in love with me part. Ron didn’t even make it off the starting line. Anyone else I know from school I’m not good enough friends with to make it _not awkward_ and I don’t know anyone else, so again, it would be _awkward!_ I don’t want to spend an evening with some pompous, pureblood, pretty boy whose only claim to fame is that he can fly!"

“I may be a pureblood who can fly, but I’m not pompous or a pretty boy, am I, mila?”

The two woman spun around, Ginny in a fighting stance and Hermione wobbling on her heels, a wide smile stretching across her face.

“Viktor! You were in the race?”

The Bulgarian Bon-Bon chuckled as she flung her arms around his neck in a strangling hug. “I was. And apparently, you are to be my escort to the gala tonight and my entertainment until then. I won.”

Ginny giggled behind the couple and Hermione waved a hand behind her, a certain finger waving more enthusiastically at her friend than the others. “Well, since you’ll be sufficiently protected, I’m going to go find my husband. Nice to see you again, Krum.”

“You as well, Mrs. Potter. Tell Harry I look forward to catching up.” He bowed his head slightly at the intimidating female, his arms still wrapped tightly around Hermione’s waist. “So, mila, what would you like to do until it’s time for the gala?”

“I would actually be fine if we just lazed about in one of our rooms. I’d honestly prefer to get out of this dress, if you don’t mind.” Viktor smirked, remembering Hermione’s preference for comfort over style.

“I do not mind at all, but only if you promise to regale me with the tale of how you came to be the Snowflake Queen. I have a feeling this was not your doing. “

A wide grin spread across his face at the low growl the small woman let out. “You are correct. I’d be glad to tell you. Just…” She held onto his arm as she bent over to unstrap the death traps someone had insisted were called shoes, sighing as her bare feet met the cool tile of the lobby.

Viktor’s face softened as she shrunk by a good four inches, already looking much more like ‘his’ Hermione as she looped the straps over her fingers and linked the fingers of her other hand in his. “It’s good to see you again, Viktor. I’ve missed you.”

He tugged her into his side as they strolled toward the elevator and pressed a kiss to the side of her hair. His nose wrinkled as he caught a whiff of some potion or other that someone had used to tame her hair. “I’ve missed you too, mila. Let’s get you back to yourself, yes?”

x . x . x . x . x

Ginny hammered on the door to Hermione’s room, her lip caught between her teeth as Harry paced the hallway behind her.

“I knew it wasn’t safe to leave her with him. There’s no telling what happened between then and no-”

Harry’s eyes bugged out of his head as the door swung inward, his words abruptly cut off as he choked on his tongue. Ginny gasped out a laugh as Hermione glared at her two best friends.

“Can I help you?”

Harry’s mouth gaped as he took in his best friend, from her tousled bedhead, to the half buttoned mens shirt covering, her to the intimidating figure of a shirtless Viktor Krum stepping up behind her.

“Ah, Harry! Good to see you!”

“No, it’s not good to see him. They interrupted.”

Ginny burst into hysterical laughter as Viktor pulled Hermione back into his body, his strong arms winding their way around her small body as his lips found their way into her wild hair. “Ah, mila, don’t worry. We have a lifetime to use to our advantage. They are your friends. Don’t begrudge them their worry. Besides, I believe we have shirked some responsibilities, no?”

Still silent and aghast, Harry nodded as Ginny continued to cackle.

“Oh, you two have just made my day! You have no idea! Come along, husband! Let’s leave the lovebirds to get reacquainted. We need to think of an excuse for them missing the gala!” Harry groaned as he watched Viktor nibble on Hermione’s neck. She giggled as she waved distractedly, calling out a muffled ‘thanks’.

He couldn’t help but wonder what he’d done to deserve this torture when his wife stepped back up to the now closed hotel door with a wicked glint in her eye. “Oi, you two! Happy Humping!”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you read Viktor's part in his accent because it's one of my favorite parts, but I hate *writing* accents. But otherwise, I hope you enjoyed lovelies!


End file.
